Lingerie
by LionAmongTheSheep
Summary: Italy makes a purchase he usually wouldn't make . . . He honestly didn't know why he did in the first place. But, maybe it's not such a bad thing that he did . . .


It had been a last minute decision, really, it had. It wasn't like he went into the store searching specifically for these items, and as he stared down at the pink bag on his bed, Italy wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. He was just looking for a new tie to wear to church with Romano, but had been sucked into the pretty frilly things in the ladies department. Being so small and somewhat curvy, he sometimes ended up buying jeans or capri pants from the women's section, so it was a familiar area for him. But there had been a sale on lingerie, and he really couldn't help himself. It was very impulsive. Besides, he couldn't turn down that deal, and they had the prettiest colors.

So here he was, standing in his room, with a white lace garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings, and absolutely no idea why. Well…it wouldn't really hurt to try them on at least, would it? After all, he'd spent money, albeit not that much, on them, so the least he should do is see how they look. So he did.

One thing he did know, was that white looked fantastic against his skin, tanned olive by the sun. Another thing, was that his legs looked…quite amazing, really. He wished for a moment he had a lover to spoil while dressed like this, but the only person that crossed his mind was Germany, and he had to quickly push that thought from his mind. Germany would never want to do anything with him, even though he did look incredibly delectable at the moment. He really had no shame in standing in front of his mirror, turning and admiring the soft curves of his body.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Germany had just gotten home from a meeting with France and England, tired as a dog. America had decided to tag along with England, like a sad puppy, and basically just interrupted the entire time with his incessant babbling and obnoxious chewing, England doing nothing but sending him warning glares. They did nothing to help.

He was just ready to go upstairs, climb into bed, and take what he could of a nap before Italy came home and bustled upstairs to get him up for afternoon lunch. He definitely didn't mind the Italian living with him lately, always having his meals made for him and being coddled over most of the time. It had its downsides, such as Italy prancing around in nothing but boxers, showing off his surprisingly lean and pretty body that Germany wanted nothing more than to bend over the kitchen table and…he stopped his thought process right there. There was definitely no need for that.

Trying to get himself under control, he rubbed a hand down his face, tossing his things to the side in an uncharacteristically sloppy pile on the couch. He toed his shoes off before heading upstairs, hearing the pitter patter of what he was sure was his light footed Italian friend. Knowing that Italy always liked to know when he'd gotten home, Germany went to the other's room, not even bothering to knock. He'd seen Italy in every form of clothed or naked one could ever imagine, so there wouldn't be an issue if he was getting dressed or something.

But this, Germany was not expecting. Not one bit. There he was, in all his glory, just as usual, except not as usual at the same time. Oh, but Germany wasn't sure how he liked this. Because he knew he liked it, no, loved it, more than anything, but…how the hell was he supposed to react to this? Italy, Italy's legs covered in sheer stockings that caressed his supple thighs and oh, Italy's ass, covered in nothing but lace…lace panties, lace garter belt, oh the lace. It's contrast against sun kissed skin just made Germany's heart stop, all the blood from it rushing somewhere else.

Italy stopped his strutting, turning sharply to find Germany standing there, but for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed. Germany has seen him completely naked, so why would this be any different? Mentally shrugging, he turned, reaching down to swipe a finger down into the top of on of the stockings to pull it up a bit, the little snap of fabric audible in the room.

"Ciao Germany! Ah~ It's my turn to make lunch today, isn't it?" he chirped, starting towards his closet. "Just let me change and I'll be right down!"

Germany internally panicked. Oh, no, please don't change, he thought. Changing would be a sin. Clearing his throat again, he half turned towards the door, a blush on his face.

"No, it's alright. I'm home early, so please, take your time." he muttered, starting out the door. "Don't change."

Italy watched the other leave, his head tilted curiously. Why would Germany want him to make lunch in lingerie? He was always telling him to put clothes on! How silly, he thought, but decided that these stockings were comfortable and there was no use taking them off if he was being allowed to run around in them. So he did, darting downstairs to start lunch. It would be wurst and pasta, just like always, just with a tiny variation. Today he would add tomatoes and basil, maybe some mozzarella.

He only took about twenty minutes to cook, walking around the kitchen as normally as he would any other day. However, Germany was having a little trouble. How could one man be so illustrious? Not to mention that he probably has no idea that he was doing it. Preposterous, really, but god was Germany thankful. What he wasn't thankful for was the fact that he could feel his self control slipping with every step Italy made that made his hips sway just so and, oh please, he thought, stop pulling the stockings up like that.

Eventually, though, it did snap, Italy happily grating some cheese over the pasta and swaying his accursed hips as he hummed cheerily. Germany just couldn't take that, standing up to walk up behind the Italian and stand close, but not touching him other than brushing his fingers along the other's jaw.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" he asked, voice low.

"Hmm? Doing what?" Italy chirped, chipper and clueless as ever. Oh, that just made it worse.

"Well…You see, Italy, I find it hard to believe that you're not trying to…make me lose control by prancing around in such lewd clothing." he whispered, actually feeling the shiver that prickled up Italy's spine and raised the hair on his neck. Damn it all, he thought, he knows now. If he didn't know before, he sure does know now.

"Germany…I didn't mean to~" he almost whined, shuddering with a sigh. Germany internally chuckled, knowing when Italy was actually ignorant and when he was just being vague, feigning it.

Then, it was happening. Italy was pushing back against him, closing the not even three inches that separated them, and Germany fought to keep himself under some kind of control. He bit his lip, holding back a half grunt, half moan at the feeling of Italy's plump ass against him. Why, he asked himself, why did he had to be so alluring. Oh but, how could he wish him not to be? Suddenly, he didn't care about control. He could see Italy's eyes, how they were half lidded with want, and his lips, how they were wet and parted so he could breathe, heavily, needily, and his thighs, oh his thighs how they trembled with his weight.

"Italy, if you hate it, I'll stop." he whispered, wanting to be sure that the other knew this before he pressed forward, Italy flush against the counter and already whining like a bitch in heat. It was incredible, as he never thought he'd get the chance to see Italy like this. When Italy shook his head, a trembling 'More' floating from his mouth, Germany felt his hear race. Oh, so he was permitted…this was good, very good.

He wanted to draw it out, to make Italy beg, but there would be another time for that, as he knew both of them wanted it, right now. So he was going to give it to him. He stepped back just a little, just enough to see Italy's ass in that God given lace, delving his finger into the hem right under his cheek, pulling it back and letting it snap back, Italy whimpering in a lovely pitch. That, however, was as far as foreplay went, as the tiny whimper from the Italian just spurred Germany on more. He pulled the panties down, unclipping the garter belt from the stockings so he could remove them, tossing them off to the side.

It was then that he took another moment to admire, absolutely entranced. But everything, from the soft curve of Italy's spine as he arched at the cold air between his legs, to the minuscule tremble of his hips as he resisted grinding against the counter. Germany decided to ease his need, along with his own.

Moving closer, he pressed against the Italian again, moving one hand around his front to ghost his fingers up the tanned sides and to one of Italy's nipples, teasing him relentlessly, listening to him whine, moan, everything.

"Germany~…" the call sounded and reverberated in his ears, and just drove him further, his other hand moving down to his belt, sliding it off and unbuttoning his pants. Italy gasped, the gasp turning into a sigh, when Germany pressed bare against the Italian's ass, gently rolling his hips already. There was no way he could wait anymore. He moved his free hand up to Italy's mouth, watching as a very flushed and lustful Italy took them into his mouth. Oh, it was so hot, it made Germany wonder how hot he was inside, and after a few moments, when Italy had sufficiently wet his fingers, he moved them down to slide one in, biting his lip at how hot it was indeed. Italy was already writhing against him, trying to alternate between grinding against the finger inside of him and against the counter.

It only took a few moments before Germany slid the second finger in, surprised at how well Italy was taking this, for someone who didn't like pain or discomfort. But he was definitely enjoying it, so he kept on, scissoring his fingers and deepening the strokes at which he pressed into Italy. Eventually, though, it wasn't enough for either of them, and Italy was begging for more. So, Germany was going to give it to him, using his already soaked fingers to lube himself up, pressing slowly against Italy's entrances.

He wasn't even half way in, and Italy was a writhing, needy mess, his breathing hitched and heavy, back arched in pure want. Germany was no better off, hands gripping at the other's hips with a vice. He had to hold himself back, go slowly, make sure Italy is comfortable, put him first, always first. But damnit if he wanted to slam into him with abandon.

Italy didn't want to wait, though, whining desperately as he was too breathless to form words, wanting Germany to start moving. He wanted more, wanted the sting, wanted to be full to the point of incoherence. He almost groaned in thanks when the other did start to move, and he could hear Germany's breath getting heavier and shakier, a sign that he was going to lose control, and god did Italy want that to happen.

And it did, Germany feeling something in him snap when his eyes met hazy brown ones, the words behind them basically begging him for more. He drank up every sound Italy made then, every slap of skin and every call of his name and every single move Italy made. He watched intently, watching the sweat roll down Italy's spine and the back of his hair start to stick to his head, watching his legs curl up and threaten to fall from beneath him. Oh, he was so close, so very close, and he just needed to feel Italy cum, just needed to push him over.

So he did, wrapping an arm around so he could stroke the other along with his thrusts, Italy keening in thanks. Then, finally, Italy arched fully against Germany's chest, toes curling deliciously as he released, Germany following right after with a breathless moan that rumbled through his and Italy's chests. It was so amazing, so perfect, and as Italy slumped against him and he pulled out slowly, he swore he'd never want to do that with anyone else ever again.

They were both exhausted, Italy already falling asleep against Germany. But, they needed to get to a bed, so Germany was able to button his pants up and scoop Italy into his arms, starting up the stairs. He would clean up later, he told himself, and by the time they were in his bed, Italy was already out cold, curling up to Germany like a kitten.

When they woke up, Italy kissed Germany deeply, Germany kissing back warmly. It was unspoken, but it was obvious. The first thing Germany did, however, was clean the kitchen, and Italy went back to the store to buy three more sets of lingerie.


End file.
